


Let's Kill Tonight

by imnotpoppunk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, Best Friends, First Person, Gay, M/M, idk - Freeform, im really bad at tags, ryans pov, schemes, supervillain brendon, villainy things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotpoppunk/pseuds/imnotpoppunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he may not be the most conventional supervillain around, Brendon Urie has his heart set on ruling the city with his stunning partner-in-crime, Ryan Ross, by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brendon Urie was a troublemaker. I always knew that. I knew that he was always wreaking havoc throughout the school and getting suspended. I also knew as well as everyone else did that his family was the one that lived in that mansion on the outskirts of town.  
So, that meant that Brendon was a rich kid that didn’t know how to follow the rules. I mean, how typical, right? That was what most people thought, anyway. That he was just some affluent prick that didn’t know where to draw the line.  
But I liked to think he was up to something more. I saw him running down the hallway once with a can of spray paint. He ran with purpose and dignity, and had this glint of amusement in his eyes. I couldn't help but stare at him as he passed by.  
And then by some miracle in our junior year of high school, he sat down across from me in the library.  
I was just sitting there, looking up something for class because I forgot to do it for homework and had a free period. I looked up at Brendon Urie with wide eyes as he sat down so casually. We had never spoken before, so when he immediately started speaking with this sense of familiarity I knew he had made a mistake.  
“We’ve got to fucking take down the lacrosse team,” he says, groaning and making eye contact with me. I stayed silent and he straightened up, eyes softening as he realizes his blunder. “Shit man, sorry, I thought you were this other guy. Awkward.”  
“I’ll do it, though,” I said, staring at him wildly as he took in my request. He just laughed this casual, carefree laugh and I think I decided in that moment that I thought Brendon Urie was beautiful.  
“You serious?” he asks, almost disbelieving. I nod slowly, not entirely sure if I want to get involved. But Brendon always seems like he’s having the time of his life, so I want to know what his adventures are like. “Dude! Okay so here’s what I was gonna tell Dallon.”  
He then proceeds to tell me this wildly elaborate plot to get back at the lacrosse team. He wouldn’t tell me why he was doing it, but I’d been bullied a couple of times by those guys, so it seemed justified to me.  
We were going to sneak into the locker rooms and find their jerseys. He had heard they were handing out jerseys today, and that the coach’s office was on the other side of the locker room. We had bleach, and they had black jerseys.  
We got caught in the end, and I was forced to attend afterschool detention for a week. But it was a blessing in disguise; because that was the week I became friends with Brendon.  
Fast-forward a year to high school graduation.  
Brendon and I were practically inseparable. I spent every waking moment with him and it was easy to call him my best friend. I mean, we had other friends, mutual friends, but Brendon was special to me. He was every bit as interesting as I had thought he was. The schemes, the adventures, even the normal nights where we stayed in for movie marathons – they were all my favorite things to do with Brendon.  
However, after getting in trouble time and time again, my mom developed this really strong disliking for him. She blamed him for the fact that I didn’t get into college. I tried to tell her that college just wasn’t for me anyway, but she wasn’t having it. There were arguments and threats to kick me out of the house if I were to stick with my decision to not even apply to the community college. But I figured parents were just like that. Empty threats to try and get me back in my plans.  
So anyway: graduation.  
The ceremony was long and boring but by the end it didn’t matter because I was finally free. No more school. No more having to face people I hated every single day. Brendon just bought a house– yes, a fucking house– with his trust fund, and had planned a party for us and a bunch of the other people we hung out with. Sure, I was totally jealous of him that his parents weren’t constantly breathing down his neck, and that they gave him enough money that he’d literally be set for a lifetime.  
So when I walked out of the building to meet my mother, I was expecting a hug or a ‘congratulations’, something normal like that. But when I got to her, she stepped away from me, avoiding my arms. I frowned, wondering what I could have possibly done this time.  
“No, Ryan, you knew our deal,” she said, shaking her head all disappointed.  
“Deal? What deal?” I asked, my chest constricting as I tried to remember. What had we ever made a concrete deal on?  
“If you’re not going to college, then you’re on your own,” she says, simply. She doesn’t even flinch or falter, like her words mean nothing to her. Like throwing out her own son means nothing to her.  
I try to stand my ground, but angry tears are already welling in my eyelids.  
“I didn’t think you meant it,” I say, barely above a whisper. My mind was racing because I didn’t know if she meant it or if she was using scare tactics.  
“I hope that you learn to take things seriously one day,” she says, her voice cold and unforgiving. I stare at her in shock as she turns on her heel and starts walking away. Oh my god.  
“Mom, wait!” I called out. I was starting to panic, getting frantic. Because what the fuck was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go?  
“Don’t even think about trying to follow me, Ryan. You had your chance,” she says, without looking back at me. I stood there, staring out into the parking lot because she was actually getting in her car and she was actually driving away. She was actually leaving me behind. I was so fucked.  
“Dude! I was looking for you!” a friend of mine, Spencer laughed as he jogged over and threw a carefree arm around me. I jumped slightly, but overall I was still a mess. My eyes were burning with tears and I couldn’t talk without choking on my words.  
“Oh my god, you’re crying,” Spencer observed. He and I were close, but he was probably just as terrible with emotions as I was. “What happened, do you need – oh, good, Brendon’s here.”  
He heaved a sigh of relief, like he knew Brendon woule be better at dealing with me anyway, which was probably true. I knew for a fact that I’d much rather have him hugging me and telling me I was going to be alright than Spencer. No offense to Spencer, obviously.  
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Brendon asked me once he reached me. I looked at him with sad eyes and he motioned for me to follow him over to a nearby bench. His eyes were fully of concern, but he was calm like always. Once we were sitting, he pulled me into a tight hug and told me that he hated seeing me upset.  
“My mom left,” I choked out. Brendon looks confused. “She left and told me I couldn’t come home with her.”  
“What do you mean?” he asked, concerned. I drew in a shaky breath and shrugged because nothing even seemed real anymore.  
“She kicked me out, Brendon,” I said, the words making my throat sting.  
“Damn, are you serious?” he scoffed. I nodded sadly and he actually uses his thumb to wipe away one of my stray tears. “Well fuck her, okay? She’s a bitch and she doesn’t deserve you anyway.”  
“That’s not even the point, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. I don’t even have a job yet and–“ He cut me off by shushing me.  
“Of course you have a place to stay,” he said, his brown eyes never leaving mine. ”My new house is just as much yours at it is mine.” 

I’ve been living with Brendon ever since, and it’s been about six months now. I had a job at a Burger King and quickly got fired from it. Something about showing up late most shifts and something else about stealing from the cash register. Whatever.  
I’m currently looking for other jobs, unwilling to seem like I’m mooching off of Brendon and his wealth. I’ve got a laptop in my lap and my feet propped up on the coffee table in the living room.  
“Ryan! Ry, I need you! It’s important!” Brendon’s voice is shouting from downstairs in the basement and I roll my eyes because that’s the voice he uses when he wants my attention more than anything. I sigh and put my laptop aside, so I can get up and go check on whatever the issue is. It’s probably nothing.  
“What?” I ask, in a tired voice as I round the bottom of the stairs. The basement area is kind of like a workshop. He’s got a bunch of desks and computers and papers everywhere.  
“I’ve got the greatest idea ever,” he says, excitedly. He’s rubbing his palms together like a maniac and I can’t help but smile. I’ve always loved Brendon’s schemes, so I sit myself on the edge of his desk as he beams up at me. He’s got this twinkle in his eye like whatever he’s got up his sleeve is his best idea yet.  
“Tell me,” I say, eagerly. He let’s out this weird sound that’s something just short of an excited squeak before he stands up because he just can’t contain himself. He’s adorable, and I find myself blushing for even thinking that.  
“I want to be a super villain,” he says, his lips curling into a grin as my own smile fades. A super- what?  
“Excuse me?” I ask, like I’ve possibly heard him wrong. Maybe he’s finally hit a wall. Maybe he’s actually insane, and I can’t believe it.  
“Ry, no, trust me, it’ll be so cool,” he says, stepping closer to me. I’m skeptical, but he’s just got this damn look in his eye.  
“Brendon, come on,” I sigh. “Let’s be rational here . . . are you fucking crazy!?” I can’t help but lace my question with a bit more venom, almost as if to make up for the fact that I’m still thinking about how cute he looks.  
“Just hear me out, okay?” he begs. I roll my eyes but I cave. I always cave. I would do anything for him and he just knows it.  
“So like, a super villain,” he says, gearing himself up for his speech again. He’s ridiculous, but he’s never really failed before, so I don’t see the harm in hearing him out. “But not like, a bad guy.”  
“What?” I repeat, not following him.  
“I mean, I want to take over the city and rule with an iron fist, but I don’t want to like, kill anyone, you know? Too messy,” he chuckles like it’s a light topic. It occurs to me that he’s not too shy of being a total maniac, but I’ve known that for quite a while now.  
“Rule the city, huh?” I humor him. It’s not a terrible idea. “And how are you gonna do that?”  
“Well, there’s a plan of course,” he grins, absentmindedly grazing his bottom lip with his teeth. Oh man.  
I feel my lips curling into a grin all over again and I know – I just know– that it’s going to be the best damn plan I’ve ever heard. Brendon Urie could rule the world and I’d be with him every damn step of the way.


	2. Chapter Two

I find it endearing how Brendon keeps adding to his plan. It's still in development, apparently, and he'll add on to it at the most random times. In the car, in the middle of the night, while we're eating breakfast. This time it's while we're out getting groceries. 

"Ryan!" He shouts, turning to me suddenly and causing me to crash into him with the cart. We're in the middle of the supermarket, so the mini-crash causes a bit of a scene. I glare at the people staring at us before turning back to Brendon. 

"What?" I hiss. I'm expecting him to say something about orange juice or needing to grab bread or something. 

"I'm starting research," he explains, carrying on with the shopping list in his hand as we finally make our way down the aisle. 

"On?" 

"The structure of the local government, organized crime, and I'm also trying to find you the perfect Christmas gift, but you know," he shrugs. I focus on the fact that he's buying me a gift more than I should because really, it's the socially acceptable thing to do anyway. But he looks pleased with himself, so I just keep pushing the cart until we've found our way to the check-out lane. 

"Organized crime, huh?" I comment, helping him load our groceries onto the conveyor belt. He shrugs like it's so casual. 'Yeah ya know, organized crime. No big deal.' 

"Yeah, trying to find out who the baddest bad guys are," he nods. "And honestly, the political structure is pretty flimsy. So what I've gotta do is break into the crime ring and take over that and then I basically have the city in my hands anyway." 

"Just the city though? Is that your end goal?" I ask, taking into account that really, it's a pretty small town. Probably won't be that hard to take over. 

"Baby steps, Ry," he chuckles. He gives me this sly grin because he's just so confident in everything he does. Luckily, Brendon's also pretty socially aware, so he stops talking about organized crime and world domination as we get up to the cashier. 

When we get back to the house, we put away the groceries and Brendon gets a phonecall. 

"Hey, how are ya?" Brendon exclaims in a friendly tone. Clearly the person on the other line is someone he knows. I used to get weirdly jealous of Brendon's other friends, but now it really didn't matter. I mean we lived together for crying out loud how much more of him did I need?

He goes on talking in a friendly manner, and I hear about plans of someone coming over. The phone call doesn't last long and soon he's just shaking his head and grinning. 

"Who was that?" I ask, curiously. 

"Dude, that was Dallon, he's back in town from school," He chuckles and my smile falters. Okay, maybe I still have a little problem with jealousy, but that's only because Dallon was his best friend before me and – what am I talking about? I'm surely going crazy. It's just Dallon. It doesn't matter. 

Dallon kissed Brendon once at a party. Just some random party, it didn't matter. Still doesn't. 

"Oh yeah?" I say, leaning against the counter. 

"Yeah, he's gonna drop by in a few hours to catch up with us, isn't that great?" he asks. "Totally got to tell him about the plan." 

"Why?" I blurt out, not meaning to sound as nagging as I do. 

"I mean, it's Dallon– " 

"Yeah, but you know . . . the less people that know the better right? Dallon's gonna be away at college again soon, there's no point in involving him in like, organized whatever . . . you know, whatever," I shrug, trying to make my suggestion sound casual and not at all like I want taking over the world to be our thing, not Dallon's. 

"You're right, that's a good idea, Ry," he grins, patting my shoulder before moving past me. He mentions something about going to clean up the living room so Dallon doesn't think we're still as messy as we were in high school. 

Dallon kissed Brendon on November 3rd, after the homecoming dance our senior year. He was drunk and Brendon just laughed but I saw the whole thing. I definitely don't still think about it all the time. 

When Dallon shows up, he's wearing this college hoodie and a pair of shorts. He looks good, unfortunately not uglier than when he left. In fact, he's probably better looking and somehow taller and it's not exactly fair. 

"So, college is going well then?" Brendon asks. Dallon nods animatedly. 

"Oh man, yeah, it's fucking awesome," he chuckles."Totally wish you guys could be at some of these parties, they're ridiculous . . . but you know. How's married life?" 

Brendon laughs at Dallon's joke and I hide my blush. Obviously we're not married, but Dallon likes to make fun because we live together. I don't think it's that funny, to be honest. They start talking about some crazy prank he pulled with his fraternity because yes, horrifyingly enough, Dallon actually joined a frat. 

"So there's an initiation and you wear matching clothes? Are you sure you didn't join a cult?" I ask, thinking I made a great joke. Brendon smiles at me because he knows I'm mostly joking but Dallon sort of rolls his eyes. Okay Dallon. Calm down, Dallon. 

By some miracle, my phone rings. I pull it out, almost laughing when I see the caller ID. 

"Who is it?" Brendon asks as I stand up to take it. 

"Spencer," I laugh. It's like he's got friend-group reunion sensors or something. Or maybe he saw the snapchat story Dallon just posted. Who knows. 

"Hey what's up," I say, grinning because he's saved me from a conversation about fraternities. 

"Okay, first of all, why are you guys hanging out without me?" he says and I sigh because I totally knew he was going to say something like that. 

"Dallon just came over to visit," I explain. 

"Really, and you didn't invite me?" he scoffs. I roll my eyes and just go with it because I've known Spencer for longer and I don't get annoyed with everything he says like I do with Dallon. 

"Spence, come on," I sigh. "You know you can just show up if you wanted to." 

"I mean, I am already outside," he says, casually. Why am I not surprised? I sigh and hang up on him. Brendon gives me a questioning look, like he's about to ask me why I just hung up on Spencer. But instead I move towards the door and open up to see, sure enough, Spencer making his way up from his car parked at the end of the driveway. 

"What is it?" Brendon asks, brushing against me as he joins me at the door. "Oh, it's Spencer! Hi Spencer!" 

"Hey, man," Spencer says, inviting himself inside. He makes a beeline for Dallon because he hasn't seen him in a while either, and I find myself getting unreasonably annoyed because Brendon and Spencer are treating Dallon like some shiny new toy. 

I sit back down on the couch, ready to be ignored for a while, until Spencer turns to me. 

"Oh yeah, by the way, I got you a job," he grins, and I just stare at him for a moment because it doesn't quite register what he's saying to me. 

"A job?" I repeat. Brendon looks over, beaming like a child because he's heard Spencer. 

"A job! Ry, that's so great!" he exclaims. 

"What job?" I ask Spencer, trying to rule out the possibility that he's trying to get me to do something weird. 

"You'd be working with me at the ice cream shop!" he says, cheerfully and I groan because the ice cream shop he works at is tiny and sounds totally boring. Also like it wouldn't pay too much. 

"Oh that's great, Ry, you love ice cream," Brendon says. I look up at him and he connects his soft eyes with mine and I smile like a fucking idiot. 

"I do, don't I?" I say, quietly. 

"And that would be such a good cover for you!" Brendon says, standing up excitedly, as he's clearly got another idea. "Yes, Ryan you have to do it." 

I glance around at Dallon and Spencer before shooting Brendon a scolding look. What happened to not telling anyone else? Ugh. 

"Cover?" Dallon asks, leaning in because he wants to hear about the schemes. "Dude, what have you got up your sleeve?" 

Surely scheming frat boys have nothing on the great Brendon Urie, future ruler of the world. I grin smugly thinking that yes, that's right. That's our plan. 

"I'm going to be a super villain and take over the city," Brendon grins, proudly. Dallon busts out laughing and I've never hated him more. 

"Dude," Dallon chuckled. 

"He's serious," I say, defending my Brendon. 

"I think it's cool," Spencer shrugs. "But, sorry man, I don't want to be a part of anything too evil." 

"Understandable, but I just want you guys to know that when the key to the city is in my hands, I'm not forgetting you guys," he grins wickedly. "I'm starting out soon. Gotta get myself a costume and a supervillain name. Don't tell anyone." 

"My lips are sealed, dude," Dallon says, and I hate that he's talking to Brendon about his lips. Ew. 

And then, somehow, this friend reunion turns into deciding what Brendon's costume is going to look like and brainstorming villain names.


	3. Chapter Three

"A mask?" I ask, in a bored voice as I flip through the TV stations. Dallon and Spencer have left for the day already and Brendon's still shooting ideas at me. I live for his ideas, but at the moment I'm just so exhausted from interacting with the group that I kind of just want to cuddle up on the couch and not say anything for a few hours. 

"Yeah, but not like– not like those boring plain masks," he explains and I turn to give him a tired look because I'm not quite sure I know what he's talking about. "Like a masquerade type mask." 

"Oh?" I say, turning back to the TV as I settle for a random movie. I pretend I'm not hyper-aware of the fact that Brendon is scooting closer to me. I'm already cocooned on my side in throw blanket, so there isn't a practical way for me to move away from him. Not that I want to be away but . . . you know. Tension. 

"Look at this one," he says, scooting even closer to me and holding up his phone so I could see the random mask he was looking at on Ebay. I look over the screen, scrutinizing both the image and the accompanying text. 

"It says it's porcelain," I point out. "How are you gonna run around wreaking havoc in a porcelain mask?" 

"How won't I?" he challenges and I just roll my eyes. He's got a bit of his weight against me and I wonder if he realizes that he's practically cuddled up against me. Because I sure as hell do. 

"Brendon," I say, keeping my voice even. He just lets out a low chuckle and I shift awkwardly because, God, he sounds hot when he laughs like that. I shouldn't be thinking of my best friend as hot, but damn. Damn. 

"I'm messing with you," he says, rolling his eyes playfully. "I just like the looks of it, you know? I was thinking I could get that design on something a little more practical." 

"Yeah?" I humor him, just a little. "You should just put a bag over your head." 

"That's extremely impractical, what if I suffocate?" he pouts, and it's my turn to chuckle. 

"Not a plastic bag, dumbass," I say, and his pout intensifies. I roll my eyes, pretending like it has zero effect on me. I turn back to the television, trying to see if I can even concentrate on the movie that's playing, but I just can't get into the plot. 

"But what do you think of the mask?" he asks me again, and I realize that maybe my validation means more to him than he lets on. I sigh and turn back to him. He's on Pinterest now, looking at more masks and I find it extremely ironic that he's turning to Pinterest for Supervillain inspo. 

"I think it's a great idea," I tell him, softly. "Don't want to get caught." 

"Right," he breathes, dropping his head against my shoulder. I hold my breath momentarily before relaxing against him. We both stare forward at the television and I try my best to ward off images of Brendon in handcuffs. 

I mean, he was arrested once. I remember during our senior year, he got caught trying to pull a quick-change on a cashier at a grocery store. They apparently weren't taking any shit that day, so they called the cops and he had to wait at the station until his parents came to pick him up. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn't even a big deal, but I knew that Brendon was talking about much bigger scams than we were used to. I didn't want him getting in over his head. 

\---

Saturday night was supposed to be my first shift working with Spencer. I was ready to leave the house, but I wasn't ready to actually work. I hoped to God that this job was as fun as Spencer was making it out to be and not a total drag like I was imagining it would be. 

As I made my way to the door, Brendon bounded down the steps, looking like he was ready to leave the house as well. I only stared for a quick second, but he was cleaned up pretty nicely. He was clean-shaven. Wore a black button-down shirt and black slacks. 

"Where are you going?" I ask him, as he finishes buttoning one of his sleeves. He just chuckles, a glint of excitement in his eyes, and suddenly the ice cream place is the last place I want to be. Brendon's about to have an adventure. 

"Gonna get into this underground club tonight," he chuckles. "Did some digging . . . apparently lots of bad-guy types like to hang out around there." 

The fact that Brendon calls them 'bad guy types' has me a little uneasy but I don't want to rain on his parade. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask him. "Are you going alone?" 

"No, God, I'm not stupid," he chuckles, rolling his eyes. "I wanted you to go with me, but you already promised Spencer –" 

"I could call out–"

"No, don't do that, it's your first day," he insists, and I groan. I don't want to be left out. "Dallon's gonna go with me. I'm the brains, he's the brawn, get it?" 

"I could be the brawn," I mumble, pathetically and Brendon laughs because he thinks I'm joking. I'm really not. I don't care if Dallon's a giant and could actually physically protect Brendon if he needed it. I just want to be there instead of him. 

"You're so cute," he laughs, and I freeze but he doesn't notice. "Anyway, have a good time at work, I'll probably be home really late tonight." 

"Okay," I mumble, even though I'm totally disappointed that I'm missing out on the action. "Call me if you need anything." 

"Of course," he grins. I force a smile and head out so that I can drive over to the ice cream shop. I arrive three minutes late, and Spencer points that out to me. 

"Dude, come on," he sighs, and I just shrug because he can't make me care about this more than I actually do. And it's not a lot. 

"Sorry, it's just three minutes," I sigh, standing against the counter. I cross my arms over my chest and I want to point out that there are no customers, so there's no need for him to get worked up anyway, but I decide to keep it to myself. 

Spencer starts going on about procedures and how to scoop the ice cream. I didn't there could be anything remotely complicated about it, but apparently there was a whole damn process. After a while, the front door opens and this dark-haired guy walks in. I open my mouth to bellow the dumb greeting Spencer taught me. 

"No, that's the manager," he chuckles, luckily saving me from embarrassment. I frown, trying to downplay the redness flushing in my cheeks. The guy looks like he's our age and I wonder how the hell he could possibly be a manager. He's not even in uniform and he's wearing fucking flip-flops. 

"This the new guy?" he asks Spencer, casually. Spencer gets all smiley and nods at him. 

"Yeah, this is Ryan," he says, offering a warm introduction. I cock an eyebrow at Spencer, wondering when he became such a fucking kiss-ass. "Ryan, this is our manager, Jon." 

"Nice to meet you," I say, casually, shaking his hand. Jon slides up and seats himself on the counter, grabbing one of the binders from under the register. He starts chatting with Spencer about some corporate bullshit and I just stand to the side awkwardly. Jon seems incredibly laid-back, and I start to understand how the application process was so easy. I didn't even need an interview. Apparently, Spencer's word was just that good. 

"Anyway, Ryan, I'm sure you can tell it's a slow night tonight," Jon chuckles to himself, pulling me back into the conversation. He's still sitting on the counter and Spencer looks too goddamn happy for his own good. 

"Yeah," I mumble, a little bitterly. They didn't need me. I could have been with Brendon. 

"So he'll go over closing procedures with you and be sure to help yourself to a free cup or cone if you want. Employee perks, you know," he shrugs, like I should be overjoyed about ice cream. Maybe it's kind of cool, but if he expects me to be bouncing off the walls, he's wrong. 

"Awesome," I say, slightly sarcastic. He doesn't catch on, but smiles at Spencer as he hops off the counter. I watch suspiciously as Spencer follows him to the door, seeing him out like they're the best of friends. When he gets back behind the counter I scoff out loud. 

"What?" he says, defensively. 

"You didn't tell me you were fucking your boss," I laugh. Spencer's eyes widen and he looks around even though we're the only two people in the entire building. 

"I'm not– Jesus Ryan, why would you–" he stammers, and I can see the redness in his face. He is so fucking his boss and it's the most hysterical thing I've heard all week. 

"Spencer come on, I wasn't born yesterday," I say, giving him a stupidly amused look. He gives me a hard shove and I just laugh because he wouldn't be getting so mad if it wasn't true. 

"We're not fucking," he insists, then right before I can say anything, adds, " . . .Yet." 

"Dude!" 

"Ryan," he says, in a warning tone. 

"When were you gonna tell me about – oh man, this is great. Fucking great," I say, still unable to wipe the grin off my face. Finally something entertaining. 

"It's nothing, really," he says trying to brush it off. 

"Oh yeah? What is it then? A crush? You got a crush on your boss?" I tease and he rolls his eyes, trying to ignore me. Maybe I'm being a bit of an ass, but whatever. "Come on Spence, you know I'm just messing with you. Tell me all about your love for Mr.Jon." 

"Gross, don't call him that," he says, grimacing at my word choice. I just stay smiling at him until he caves and starts telling me the story. 

"So we've worked together for a few months now, and god, he's just so cool, you know?" he sighs, shaking his head. "And he's nice and funny and –" 

"Man, I didn't even know you were gay," I chuckle, shaking my head. Not that I care, that would obviously be hypocritical, but damn. 

"Trust me, I didn't either," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. He shoots me a mild glare and I can't help but smirk. "Don't give me that stupid look, Ross." 

"What look?" I tease, because I'm totally giving him a look. My second-best friend is trying to fuck his male boss and it's the best thing I've heard in a long time. 

"You don't get to tease me about this," he says, defensively. "And you certainly don't get to tell him." 

"Oh, come on, would I do that?" I sigh. He gives me a knowing look. I groan again and he just leans against the counter. 

"Who knows? But just for safe measure, don't forget that I know all about your thing for Brendon," he says, and it's more than enough to wipe the grin off my face. I never should have told him about that. But it just sort of happened. I was upset when Dallon kissed him, and I ended up being a total loser and confiding in Spencer about it. 

"Oh my god, you would not," I say, like it's the most deplorable thing he could ever suggest. Because it is. Because there's no way that Brendon can ever know about it. 

"See, what I'm wondering is how you've lived with him for half a year now and he still has no idea," Spencer chuckles like it's a light-hearted sort of irony. It's not though. It's absolutely tragic. 

"Whatever," I mutter, assessing the situation in my head for a moment. "How weird is it that we're all gay as fuck except Brendon?" 

"Dude, I'm not gay as fuck I'm just –" 

"Gay for your boss?" 

"Don't say it like that," He snaps. "And you're fucking thick you know that? No way in hell Brendon's the straight one." 

I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide my excitement that someone outside my fantasies thinks that Brendon might be into guys. I remember when Dallon kissed him, he just laughed it off like it was nothing, and I though it was because they were friends and Brendon's the best kind of friend anyone could have. 

"No, dude, maybe he hasn't admitted anything, but he's like . . . flaming. I've been thinking it since I met the dude," he chuckles. "You should try putting the moves on him and see how he does." 

I ignore his dumb comment, because my mind is wandering, suddenly aware that a possibly-gay Brendon and a definitely-gay Dallon are scoping out a night club tonight and I'm not there to get between them. Not literally but like – 

I just don't want him kissing Brendon again.


	4. Chapter Four

The next day, Brendon doesn't get up until almost noon and when he does I have to pretend like I wasn't waiting for him to wake up. I didn't want to seem like I was that desperate to see how shit went down at the club. 

"Hey," I manage to say casually, despite the fact that he's walking into the kitchen shirtless, only clothed by a pair of loose sweatpants that hang below his hips. I bite my lip in a discrete manner as he crosses to the refrigerator. 

"Morning," he mumbles, still sounding sleepy. I wait to interrogate him until he's sitting across from me at the table, orange juice in hand. 

"How'd it go last night?" I ask him, as he finally looks up at me. He's still wearing his glasses and I'll admit that it's totally my weakness. He gives me a soft smile, which tells me he's had a good night. 

"Dude, we ended up fuckin . . . selling coke," he chuckles like he still can't believe the night he had. My insides twist because I'm sad that I wasn't there to share that good time with him. 

"Coke?" I repeat, sort of disbelievingly. 

"Yeah, like cocaine . . . it's honestly not a big deal, we used to sell weed all the tie in high school," he says, shrugging it off like it's no big deal. 

"I'm pretty sure coke is a much bigger deal than weed," I scoff, shaking my head. Not that I wouldn't have done it, too, if I was there. But I wasn't. Dallon was. "So what's got you all smiley? Was the coke that good?" 

"Nah," he chuckles. "But the sex was." 

My stomach drops. 

"The . . .I'm sorry, what?" I ask, trying to pretend like I didn't just hear that. I knew it was a bad idea to let him go without me. He probably had sex with some sleazy bitch and I could have prevented it if I was there. Hell, if he wanted to get off that badly, I wouldn't have been against –

"You'll never believe it," he chuckles. "But Dallon and I had sex." 

Oh. 

I try to hold it in, I really do. But when he tells me that, literally every alarm in my goddamn brain goes off and I can't help but want to punch something. 

I stand up violently from the table, accidentally knocking over the chair I was sitting in. I don't bother to pick it up or dwell on the fact that Brendon looks totally taken aback by my reaction. Fuck that. 

"Ry, what's wrong?" Brendon has the nerve to ask me as I grab my car keys from the island counter. I'm still seething with stupid fucking rage and I don't know what to do. I can't make sense of how angry I am and I certainly can't explain it to Brendon. He doesn't understand how much he just hurt me. 

"Nothing, I'm leaving," I mutter, angrily as he tries to follow me out the front door. 

"Ry, Wait up, just tell me what's – I don't understand what just happened, why are you so angry?" he asks me, catching my wrist. I glare at him like it's the most offensive thing he's ever done to me. How fucking dare he. 

"I'm going to Spencer's," I say, icily. He sighs outwardly, still not getting it. 

"What's at Spencer's? I want to talk to you about this," he says, a bit of a begging tone to his voice. I think for a moment that maybe he means he wants to talk and understand why he's upset me, but then he continues. "I just – Fuck, I just had my first gay experience and I just want to talk to my best friend about it." 

"Sorry," I say, because it's the best I can muster up when my heart is literally breaking into pieces. I rip my arm away from him finally and he just lets me go. Maybe it's a bit dramatic for the situation, but I just can't help it. I'm upset, and I didn't even realize I was this invested in my feelings for Brendon. Who knew this would be so fucking heart-wrenching. 

I show up at Spencer's apartment. I didn't call or text him ahead of time, but I see that his car is in the parking lot so I know he's home. My face is still wet with tears as I march up to his floor and bang on the door. 

The door swings open, revealing a very confused Spencer. 

"Whoa, hey, what's–" 

Before he can even get out another word, I push past him and find his living room couch. I'm still being dramatic, and it shows, but I just simply do not care. 

"Ry, what the hell?" he asks, but he doesn't sound genuinely annoyed. "Why are you crying?" 

I'm pretty sure the only time he's ever seen me cry was when my mom officially kicked me out of the house. 

"Because something terrible has happened," I tell him, because it really is the worst news. 

"Dude, no offense, I love you but isn't Brendon your go-to guy for tragedies?" he chuckles awkwardly. I know he's not good with consolation, but he's all I got. 

"Brendon's the problem," I admit. 

"Holy shit, what happened? Is he okay?" he asks, like something bad's happened to him. Something bad has happened to Brendon, but I don't think Brendon sees it that way. Unfortunately. 

"Oh he's great, just fucking great," I say, angrily. I finally sit up on the couch, trying to collect myself. I lean over and snatch a couple of tissues from the end table. Spencer just stares at me, still bewildered as fuck as I compose myself. 

"So, uh . . . what's got you so worked up, then?" he asks, cautiously taking a seat on the other end of the couch. Spencer is the most awkward person I know. 

"Brendon and Dallon had sex last night," I say, in a grumpy voice that I don't realize sounds ridiculous until I've already spoken. 

"Jesus, fuck, really?" Spencer asks, but he's half-laughing. Ugh. I roll my eyes and run my hands through my hair, exasperated. I can't fucking believe this is actually something I'm getting worked up over. I can't believe I actually like Brendon like this– enough for me to be in actual pain over him sleeping with someone else. Someone who happens to be Dallon Weekes. 

I decide that I hate Dallon Weekes. Brendon thinks we're friends, but we aren't anymore. 

"I hate them both," I say, sadly. I want to fucking bash my head in for sounding so melodramatic. 

"Dude, calm down," Spencer chuckles. 

"Don't tell me to calm down! Like you wouldn't be bawling your eyes out if Jon came into the ice cream hut and–"

"Okay, okay, I get it," he sighs. And I know he gets it because he can't even bear to let me finish describing an imaginary scenario. 

"I just . . . I didn't even know he'd be into . . .And why would he choose to experiment with Dallon and not me?" I ask, and I still sound pathetic, but I'm mostly past the point of caring. 

"Dude, I mean . . . was it a one-time thing? Or are they . . . I mean, because it matters," he shrugs. I shrug too because I don't really know. "Well if they're like, trying to be together then . . . you gotta leave them alone. If not, then I say you just gotta step up your game." 

"Step up my game?" I scoff because it seems ridiculous. "How can I step up my game? I live with him, I literally do everything with him and he trusts me and–" 

"That's not what I mean," Spencer sighs. "Obviously he fucking cares about you, it wouldn't make sense if he did. I mean, was he the one who told you he slept with Dallon?" 

"Yeah," I choke, remembering the stupid smitten look on his face. I hate Dallon Weekes so fucking much I want to scream. 

"Well, then, he might think you're only into him as a friend, you know? Like, you guys are best friends," he explains, and I don't know what he's talking about. 

"Dallon was friends with him first," I muttered, begrudgingly. 

"Yeah? So? You came in and you guys have been literally inseparable," Spencer explains. "Don't let this ruin your relationship with Brendon, you guys are good as best friends, at least. And from what I'm to understand . . . partners in crime?" 

"Unless he's replacing me with Dallon," I moan, miserably. "I hate this. He was scoping out drug dealers last night with Dallon." 

"Why the–"

"Spencer, it's fucking Brendon, who the hell knows?" I say, my patience is running extremely thin. I sigh again as my phone buzzes in my pocket and I see a text from Brendon: 

_I don't know what I did, but pls don't be mad at me :(_

I roll my eyes, too upset to even text him back because I don't know how to tell him that he broke my heart already.


	5. Chapter Five

I don't get back home until late because I spent the entire day at Spencer's. The only reason I'm even back is because Spencer practically forced me out of his place. He saw right through me and knew I just didn't want to go back and face Brendon after my little freak-out this morning. 

That was so not subtle at all. 

I walk in the door, immediately illuminated only by the light of the television. I quietly kick my shoes off and walk over, my chest constricting as I find Brendon curled up. He's got one of the throw blankets over him, his head against the armrest. 

"Hey," I say quietly, a lump growing in my throat as I assume he's ignoring me. Fuck. This was the shitty thing about having feelings for a friend like Brendon. Normally pursuing someone, I'd have nothing to lose, it wasn't a big deal. But with Brendon . . . fuck, if I screwed up– losing him would mean losing everything. Losing myself. 

I let out a shaky sigh and walk around the couch to sit on the armchair adjacent to him. I open my mouth to speak, when I realize the reason he wasn't answering me is because he's sleeping. Oh. I watch him for a moment, smiling at the way his mouth hangs open, the way his eyelashes lay against his cheeks. He really is beautiful and it makes me sad. 

Sad because in addition to that, he's smart and driven and creative and–

I freeze as he starts to stir. He rubs his palms against his eyes and reaches for his phone on the coffee table, like he's checking the time, before he notices me. He jumps a little, then lets out a sleepy chuckle that does crazy things to me. 

"Shit, I didn't know you were home," he says, sitting up a little. 

"Just got home," I say quietly. I can't hold eye contact with him because I still can't believe I blew up at him like that this morning. I'm so embarrassed, and I haven't even begun to think about how I'm going to explain that one. 

"Where were you?" he asks, his voice still low. 

"Spencer's, I told you," I mumble, because, yes, I did tell him that. 

"Oh," he says, his affect flat. I don't know what that means. Is he still upset with me? He told me this morning that he needed me and I flat-out stormed away from him because I was too busy thinking about myself. I feel terrible about it still. 

"I'm sorry about this morning," I blurt out, pushing it all out there so I don't have to worry about it anymore. Yikes. 

"It's . . . it's okay," he says, but he still sounds sad. I can't figure out why. 

"Are you upset?" I ask, cautiously. He sits all the way up and runs his hands tirelessly through his hair like he's trying to figure it out. I nervously chew at my lip because, God, the last thing I meant to do was upset him. 

"I've been trying to just concentrate on the plan all day, you know?" he says, like he's changing the subject all of a sudden. His face twists and my stomach knots because, come to think of it, I've never actually seen Brendon upset before. 

"Is something wrong with the plan?" I ask. He laughs at that and I'm not sure if I should feel offended or what. 

"No, the plan is solid. Fucking solid," he says, with a light hearted sigh. "I've already figured it out, like . . . gonna get the guys selling coke busted and then swoop in and take over the club. You get the club, you get access to the baddest bad asses in town at your disposal. It's that kind of place." 

"That sounds dangerous," I comment, trying to imagine Brendon running a ring of a bunch of drug dealers. It seems sort of ridiculous in my head. 

"It's fine," he says, brushing it off. 

I'm silent for a few beats, and so is he. The thought of him with Dallon still makes me want to cry, but I decide in that moment that it's more important to be there for my best friend in the world. I can't just leave him upset and feeling alone or whatever the hell he's feeling. 

"So you had your first gay experience?" I ask, slowly. "Is that what you called it?" 

A smile cracks at the corner of his lips and my heart is breaking all over again, but I smile through it anyway. 

"Yeah," he breathes, staring at the coffee table in front of him. "And it was like . . . damn. I didn't realize that– I didn't know . . . " 

"Didn't know you'd be into?" I offer, trying to get back into the mindset of someone going through this identity crisis, or whatever you would call it. I never really had a moment where I was so disturbed by the thought of liking boys. It had just always been that way, but I know it's not always the case and I'm pretty sure that in Brendon's case, he just never gave much thought to it at all. 

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugs. 

"But you're upset about it?" I ask, because his emotions are incredibly hard to decipher. One moment he's got these little grins and the next he looks like he wants to burst into tears. 

"I feel bad about it," he finally admits, and I stay still because I don't want him to know I'm even the slightest bit happy that his relations with Dallon weren't perfect and wonderful. I was a terrible person, really. 

"Oh," I say, slapping myself mentally because I can't make a comment more intelligent than that one. It's kind of ridiculous. Brendon looks up at me, his eyes wide and worried. I sigh and cross the living room so that I'm sitting on the couch next to him. There are about two inches of space between us, and I can feel the heat of his body already. 

"Why do you feel bad?" I ask him, assuming my role as the supportive friend. Because that was most important wasn't it? Brendon followed through when I needed him, and now I'm doing the same. That was how we worked. 

"Because," he sighs, shaking his head. "I'm just not into him like that, and now he's . . . he's been texting me all day and I feel bad because– because I think Dallon might like me." 

"Really?" I ask, a slight bit of sympathy for Dallon passing through me. I still hated him, but damn. He shrugged and pulled out his phone, showing me Dallon's texts which mostly were things like 'hey how's ur day going?' and 'I can't wait for a repeat of last night' and then, of course, 'I think we should hang out more often. Maybe a date?' 

"I haven't responded," he tells me, quietly. 

"I can see that," I say, softly. He keeps his lips pursed and sets the phone aside. He's rubbing his eyes again and leaning back into the couch. I chew my bottom lip, wondering what my next move is. I mean, I don't even know what the appropriate thing to do would be. 

"I guess the gays really do flock together then, huh?" I chuckle, and he rolls his head to the side so that he's looking at me. He looks slightly confused, probably because he doesn't know about Spencer. But my allegiance with Brendon is slightly stronger than my allegiance with Spencer, so I don't think it matters.

"What do you–"

"Spencer's got this huge crush on his boss," I say, grinning as I turn more towards him. "The dude's like some hippy and – for whatever reason, Spencer's just a little puppy dog around him. It's cute. Like, painfully so." 

"Really?" Brendon asks, pondering the thought for a moment, trying to imagine Spencer hitting on a guy. Really, Spencer hitting on anyone was weird to think about, what with his emotional incapabilities. 

"Yep," I confirm, leaning back against the couch with him. He gives me sort of a crooked grin, like somehow what I'm saying is actually helping him out a little. His big, brown eyes linger on mine a few moments too long, and I get this weird feeling in my chest. I turn back to the television and keep my face straight. "What are you watching?" 

"I don't even know, I fell asleep," he shrugs. Obviously. "I was watching some Lifetime movie." 

"Oh man, yeah, you're definitely gay," I tease, looking back at him and grinning as he sits up again. I don't know if he even realizes what he's doing to me, but something about sleepy, messy-haired Brendon makes him my favorite Brendon. 

"Hey, don't be rude, maybe I'll re-think making you my second-in-command," he chuckles. I stare at him for a minute, not sure if I want to smile or not. 

"I'm gonna be your second in-command?" I ask him. He gives me this crazy look like, yeah, of course, are you crazy? I feel a little light-headed. 

"I mean, duh, who else would be?" he asks, suddenly throwing his arm around my shoulders, his warmth engulfing me very suddenly. 

"I don't know . . . Dallon?" I say, trying not to roll my eyes too much. I mean, besides the sleeping together thing, Brendon did take him on his little mission instead of me. Granted, I was busy working but still. Maybe things had changed. 

"Please," he scoffs. "Dallon's a good friend of mine, but he's not . . . he's not you, Ry." 

I feel like we're doing an awful lot of pausing and gasping and staring but I can't figure out how to interact in any other way because the air is just so fuzzy. 

"Well, good," I say, gaining back a little bit of my confidence. "I'd have to like, beat Dallon up or something if he was taking my place." 

"No one could ever take your place," he chuckles, and I wonder if he knows how much that means to me. Because really, I feel like wrapping him in my arms right here, right now, and telling him how much I love him. Jesus. 

"Good to know," I mumble. My eyes flicker to his arm that's still around me and Brendon's still grinning at me and wow. Everything's so good. 

Crying over Brendon at Spencer's house seems like a distant memory all of a sudden and I can't imagine being upset with him. He doesn't like Dallon anyway. No one's stealing him away from me– 

I hold my breath for a moment as I realize that I've slowly been leaning inwards and suddenly my face is ridiculously close to Brendon's. He's still and he's calm and I have no idea what I'm doing. He exhales slowly, his breath swirling against my skin. His arm tightens around me and I swear he's pulling me in closer though I can't imagine why. This is crazy. 

But apparently it wasn't crazy enough for me, because before I could stop myself, I was leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.


End file.
